Page 62 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“But you like it.” He didn’t have to ask. The way she trembled and rocked, trying to get more, told him everything he needed to know.
“I do,” she whispered. “More, please.”
He palmed his cock. Fucking hell. This woman would be the death of him.
He feasted on her, teasing her with his lips and tongue, and when she was desperate for him, her back arching, her breaths coming on short stutters, he slipped his finger inside her and curled it.
She spasmed around his finger, whimpers spilling from her lips as pleasure wracked her body.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Give in to me.”
His cock was harder than iron, but he already knew that he wouldn’t be able to take her tonight. He had promised to ease her into physical intimacy, but if he sank into her hot channel now, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
He was desperate for her.
When she stopped writhing, he eased his finger out of her and covered her with her nightgown.
She struggled to sit up and looked at him dazedly.“I had no idea….”
Primal satisfaction punched through him.
His wife had never experienced sexual pleasure before, and he’d been the one to introduce her to it. Nobody else would ever have that honor.
“I want to do it all,” she said, her gaze sharpening. “Now.”
“No.” He backed away from her, scrambling off the bed, grateful for the fact that she at least wouldn’t know what his erection meant.
Her face fell. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“We can’t,” he said. “You’re not ready yet.”
Liar. It was he who wasn’t ready.
“But Vaughan, I am. I—”
He strode to the door. “Not tonight.”
He entered his bedchamber and shut the door behind himself. A moment later, he heard her sob and cursed himself for the worst kind of cad.
Tonight was the night.
Emma walked the length of her bedchamber and pulled the drapes shut.
Tonight, she would be with her husband properly. She would no longer be a failure of a wife who hadn’t participated in the marital act.
Provided, of course, that she could manage to seduce Vaughan.
He didn’t seem the type of man who was susceptible to seduction—although his interest in Violet, a famous beauty, might say otherwise. Had he not performed the act with her yet because she was less alluring than her sister, or was something else amiss?
He’d said he wanted to ease her into it, and she appreciated that, but it also made her question why, if that was the case, he’d fled after both of their more intimate encounters without first pausing to check how she fared.
She’d been left alone to wonder what she’d done wrong. Was there something repulsive about her that made him reluctant to go through with it or linger in the aftermath?
That seemed plausible.
Emma undressed without assistance, since she was wearing one of her simplest dresses, and opened the drawer in which she’d stowed her scandalous new nightgowns. Her mission tonight would require something different.
She retrieved the nightgown she’d resisted wearing so far, considering it too risqué. The neckline plunged, as did the back. The silk was so sheer that when she put it on and looked in the mirror, she could see the outline of her areolas.
